


Fragments

by YourFutureWillBeBeautiful



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Descriptions of violence/gore/torture, Feelings Realization, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Set in the future post bionuclear war, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Very nerdy i’m so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29701818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourFutureWillBeBeautiful/pseuds/YourFutureWillBeBeautiful
Summary: “Hey? You alive?” Changbin groaned, as he prodded the mass of matted black hair, covering it's face.It lay there, lifeless. Sprawled out across the amorphous silt, small clumps of duckweed and algae covering most of it's naked body, which was contorted into the foetal position, still half submerged at the edge of the lake’s water.The body seemed to be male, maybe in the late twenties, but he tried not to think about it like that, preferring to refer to them as 'it'. It felt less personal, that way.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 50
Kudos: 74





	1. 330428

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by the anime Elfenlied, which i re-watched a few weeks back and just absolutely love, which inspired this whole 'stranger washed up in the water' thing. i think this is somewhat 'X-men'y/Misfits'y as well, i guess, and metal gear solid v and death stranding perhaps... just a whole mess. there's definitely some supernatural elements in this too, but they will come /slightly/ later. 
> 
> cw // mentions of violence, abuse, torture and human experimentation. may be some mildly explicit scenes later on but nothing so bad that i feel the need to make it technically 'explicit'. take care!

“Hey? You alive?” Changbin groaned, as he prodded the mass of matted black hair, covering it’s face.

It lay there, lifeless. Sprawled out across the amorphous silt, small clumps of duckweed and algae covering most of its naked body, which was contorted into the foetal position, still half submerged at the edge of the lake’s water.

The body seemed to be male, maybe in the late twenties, but he tried not to think about it like that, preferring to refer to them as _it._ It felt less personal, that way.

It had a number adorned, just like all the others, across the left shoulder.

Changbin swept the bottom of his shoe over it’s upper body, relieving some of the weeds wrapped around the arm, and leant down to examine the number.

**320428**

The year was 2033, and it was May 5th. This was a fresh one, only a little over a year old, and looking at it’s bruises, only a few days since suppression treatment, likely. There were numerous welts and burns across the cavern of it’s chest, so maybe it’d had some thermodynamic therapy, too.

It wasn’t new, for Changbin. Failed experiments often washed up here all the time, day, or night, right on his front doorstep.

He maintained and preserved the lake and wildlife here, _Lake_ _ChunguDam_. The problem was, he found himself incinerating and burying more botched bodies and contorted carcasses than he did than actually monitoring the lake, at all.

He lived in a small utility-cabin, just 5 kilometres away from the District. The main research facility could be seen off across the grisly coastline, where the blackened water met the ashen, early-morning sky.

The facility was a protruding, offshore platform hovering above the water, once an oilrig, now a gruesome reminder of what happens to those people who are unwanted, or refuse to serve for their District.

He looked back down and nudged the side of it’s ribcage with the underside of his boot again. There was no movement at all, so he felt for a pulse against it’s feeble wrist, and found nothing shifting beneath his finger.

Another dead one.

Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of them were dead, and that was the point. That’s why they were in the lake in the first place.

Twice, that he’d known of, that people had survived it.

He remembers seeing him, a teenager with freckles, barely alive, thrashing for air in the thick sedimented water, and shrieking for his Mom to save them, until the District support forces came and carted him away; but he’d already taken his last breath. 

It had been nine years, since that day, but it was scarred into his subconscious forever.

He leant down, tying the dense rope meant for the buoy he needed to cast, around it’s left ankle, tugging to secure it with a strong honda knot. He sighed off into the cool air at the minor inconvenience, and started wandering back across, dragging the body back along the moistened sand.

He left it slumped up in a weathered deck chair sitting out the back of his cabin near an opening in the trees, with a towel strewn over it, just to cover it’s dignity, somewhat.

\--

He rid himself of his thick gilet-style navy jacket and pulled his black _District_ -logo-emblazoned cap off, running his hand through his hair. It was thick with salt and debris; he really needed to shower.

Breakfast was lavish. A slice of toast cooked under the gas cooker, a soft-boiled egg and half an orange. He barely got fruits, let alone citrus. They’d sent rations across for him last week and must’ve been feeling more generous than normal.

That, or someone was getting thrown over-platform. 

He wanted two slices of bread, but he knew he had to be strict; he’d already eaten more than he should have. He couldn’t be nauseous from hunger again, he needed to preserve his energy for his next night shift. Being out in the minus figures across the lake exhausted him, and it was a thirteen-hour stint.

After breakfast he did some light reading, the weekly _District Articulate_ newspaper. He’d always read 8 pages a day; meaning he’d read the full 56 pages by next weeks delivery.

Then he pulled open his electronic reports, to write back to the rig. His hands were cold and swollen, from being out early to retrieve the body, and they hadn’t warmed, yet. It was colder than he’d expected, but firewood had to wait; he was running low.

He started sprawling across the tablet, his weekly findings next to the designated questions. The questions and answers were always, the same.

 **_Thursday, 5 May 2033, time recorded : _ ** _9:45am._

> **_Tidal rotation:_** _around a central amphidrome; no change in momentum loss. waves reflected – normal/within normal limits._
> 
> **_PH last recorded:_** _03/05/2033, 5:18am, pH measured at 8.1±0.02._
> 
> **_Sensor depths:_** _standardized at 0-30, and 40m to allow for comparability of thermal profiles._
> 
> **_NO_** _/yes - changes in radiation levels, no abnormalities, no anomalies._
> 
> **_NO_** _/yes - changes in precipitation, no abnormalities, no anomalies._

He glanced back across the page, filling in the final row of results.

> **_23: a.) Carcasses retrieved/disposed of:_** _13\. Also found: full right arm from glenohumeral joint, all phalanges attached. Whole thorax, advanced decay, nothing attached)_
> 
> **_b.) Of which movement was determined:_** _0_
> 
> **_c.) Of which a pulse was detected:_** _0_

His focus was suddenly pulled, to the sound of his radio. The weather station softly playing in the background had begun to _hiss_ , before a beep sounded, then a monotonous voice crackling from the speakers to warn him of _imminent_ _rain._

Yesterday, there was no rain anticipated. His pluviometer was top-of-the-range technology, and the latest model, distributed from the District, themselves.

There shouldn’t be any rain that he didn’t expect.

However, as he looked out of the window, an angry, swirling cloud had formed above the water, gurling it underneath. He looked out in awe, his face twisting into a look of bewilderment, his eyebrows crinkling in the centre.

He slumped back into his chair, making a note of the random, unusual occurrence. There must have been some kind of error when he last recorded.

> _No **/ YES** \- changes in precipitation, ~~no abnormalities, no anomalies~~. Rain recorded today, 10:13am. Alternative energy sources potentially interfering with signal of previous reading likely. All changes recorded will be investigated._

He made his way across the wooden floor, taking his black anorak from the hook on the wall and throwing it over his shoulders. He shoved the cap back on, just to protect him from some of the droplets as he pulled the door open, the wind lashing against him immediately as he walked out. He pulled each side of his jacket closed, wrapping his arms around himself.

Outside the back of his cabin, was his barometer. He _had_ to have read the air pressure wrong this morning; that was the only logical conclusion he could come to.

He glanced at the compass-like clock mounted against the tree stump out the back, just like he did before he went out this morning. The needle was swirling out of control, before reaching its’ final conclusion.

The reading had increased 0.40in-Hg in less than three hours.

That, was physically impossible.

He scrambled backwards in delayed shock; the only other time he’d seen _anything_ like this, was nine years ago.

He turned back around, suddenly sensing something was amiss, his throat drying out rapidly, making it difficult to breathe as he tried to suck air in through the bitter wind smashing against him.

He turned to look at the deck chair.

The dead body he’d pulled from the lake this morning with the mess of black hair, was gone. Instead, the stained bath towel once thrown over it’s body was now tied in a knot around the arm, flailing in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! this is majorly out of my comfort zone fic wise, as i tend to stick to slice of life type style, but considering all the hyunjin shit that's going on right now, i just wanted to write /something/ different and outside the realms of reality, and this is what came out. hopefully it's tangible.
> 
> bird app: @YfwbbS


	2. Harbouring

The water was becoming lukewarm, as it ran down his skull and pooled at the centre of his forehead, dripping down his nose. It cascaded over his chin, then down his body, swallowed by the plughole gurgling at his feet.

He crushed his hands against his face and back through his hair, spreading the soap over his head with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

The timer suddenly warned him the hot water was low. He’d used his entire hot water allowance in one thirty-minute sitting, mostly just staring off into space, his brain fogged over with dread.

He couldn’t get it out of his head.

The _thing_ , from yesterday, disappearing into thin air, without a trace.

He’d searched around the woods for hours with his flashlight, delving about a mile deep into the expanse of the trees, before scanning over the stretch of the lake briefly from the beacon post behind his cabin. The thing was so weak and skinny, it couldn’t have made it that far.

Yet, there was no sign of any life, that he could see.

He started to think maybe he’d imagined the whole thing completely. He was starving, and maybe he’d been having illusions again, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. Every time his emotions got the best of him, he’d imagine things that weren’t there; just shadows in the corners of his sustenance-starved subconscious.

Sometimes he’d see shadows, other times he’d see little lights off to the corner of his eyes. Little lightning bolts that sparked feelings that he couldn’t explain.

He considered the other option was that the District had sensed the change in the weather pattern too, and retrieved the body from him, without prior warning. It seemed ludicrous that they wouldn’t contact him first, though, and he was sure he’d have heard the helicopters or the engines of the boats piling towards his cabin.

Plus, harbouring someone would likely get him a trip to the bottom of the lake, himself.

He stepped out of the shower on to the water-stained, teal mat, reaching for the clean towel and pushing it through his hair first, ruffling it, before draping it over his shoulders.

He looked in the mirror, his eyes encircled with mauve and blue rings. He looked scrawnier than the month before, his cheeks caving more inwards and his brow-bone looking more prominent. The stress of the situation wasn’t helping, either.

He suddenly remembered the saved half of the citrus fruit he had in the kitchen from yesterday. His mouth started watering thinking about it, but he knew he had to save it for his trip.

He tied the towel around his waist, padding his way back down through the hallway, when suddenly he stopped, totally in his tracks.

His eyes expanded, and a wave of fear jolted through his entire body, rendering him frozen.

The man— _The thing_ , from yesterday.

It was standing there, in his hallway in front of the door, zipped into his rain anorak and _staring_ at him through light-azure, misted eyes.

He didn’t even have time to process how it got in, he was totally stunned in to petrification, and when he tried to speak, the words fell short, perishing in his larynx.

He remembered there was an emergency button on a device mounted on his mantel, next to the fireplace. It was encased in glass, and the signal would manually send out a distress call from the beacon behind his cabin, to the District, to alert them of an unusual presence.

He’d never used it; until now.

They watched each other for a few moments, before Changbin abruptly darted across the room, sliding across the ancient Kashan rug of his living space, making a dash for the other side. He launched his fist straight into the glass casing to crack it open, splitting his knuckle just above the index finger, blood gushing down his hand.

He didn’t even feel the agony, he was too terrified to even consider it. 

“Please d-don’t!” the voice shouted gutturally.

Changbin’s head snapped back, a shock wave travelling through him, as he gripped the device tightly in his hand, thumb hovering over the distress button.

“What?!” he shouted, his eyes blinking through the dryness.

“Please don’t tell them I’m here! Please!” it screamed, lessening the space between them and launching it’s frail body against his. It grabbed his hand, wrapping its’ bony fingers around his wrist. Changbin tried to angle it away from grabbing a hold of the device, jolting to the side to try and shake it off as it continuously sobbed, violently shaking his arm with the small amount of power it had left in it’s feeble body.

Changbin finally broke free, propelling it backwards with the flats of his palms until it’s body crumpled down against the hardwood floor. It curled in on itself, wrapping it’s arms around its knees, sobbing maniacally into the material of the stolen raincoat.

“Y-you’re… You’re talking to me...” Changbin responded through bated breath, “t-that’s, impossible... How?!”

“Please—”

“—You can’t… You… Never, _ever,_ has one of you ever spoken to me! None of you even survive!” he shouted, throwing his head backwards in disbelief.

“I— Please, I need h-help...” it stuttered, croaking it’s words out in between sharp inhales of breath.

Changbin stared at it. The pain across it’s emaciated, pale face. Its collarbones protruding and turning inwards as it hunched over in fear. It’s eyes were wide and glossy, coated in a thin layer of tears.

The full-looking lips it likely once had were decorated with broken skin and lesions, and its hair matted in a knot on the top of it’s head.

“T-this is a trick,” Changbin announced firmly, “if I help you, you’ll kill me. I report things like you to the District, it’s my job—”

“Please, I promise, I won’t—I couldn’t even if I tried! I’m so weak, please!” it cried out, jolting forward to latch it’s hands against Changbin’s bare calf, digging their fingers in to his skin, “I just want to stop here, to get some clothes and f-food, and water and then I’ll leave you alone, I promise! Please! My name is Hyunjin!” it begged, sliding down from his left leg, and falling on it’s hands and knees, bowing with it’s forehead practically pressed against the floor.

Then it looked back up at him, with such pain in his eyes. Changbin was so stunned at the creature gazing up at him, that he’d barely registered what it had even said.

“Yo-your— _Name?”_ Changbin stammered back, in astonishment.

“Yes! I’m Hyunjin! I’m 28 years old and I’m from Seoul! I promise!” he pleaded, locking eyes with the man from the ground.

It went quiet for a moment, whilst Changbin gazed despondently as the tears streamed down it’s cheeks.

This thing could have been beautiful, in another life away from this District.

But he couldn’t let it win.

This was a game. There was no feasible way an experiment tortured to the extent of this one, with blisters all across its torso and eyes clouded over, opacified and ashen-blue, could even remember _how to communicate_ , let alone remember who they were and where they came from.

“Your hand, it’s bleeding, please let me help you!” it cried out, placing it’s head against the front of his thighs as it wrapped it’s arms around them both, begging and pleading, the tears being absorbed by the towel wrapped around him.

It leant back and reached for his hand, seizing it, and placing its’ own palms flat over Changbin’s, frantically smearing the blood against his knuckles in a flurry. Changbin felt a shudder travel through his body at the sudden sting at the contact with the deep wound across his hand.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Changbin shouted, kicking him loose, again.

He reached for the thing and grabbed it by the top of the arms, lifting it off the ground and forcing it down the hallway as it let out a pained scream at his thumbs digging into his skin. It was so frail that just his finger marks would likely stain the things’ arms, littering it with bruises at the smallest contact.

He immediately launched it through the door of the bathroom, swinging it in by it’s arm, and pushed it back in to the empty tub, before closing the door again.

He backed against it with all his might, hearing the sounds of the thing scrambling out of the porcelain bath and bawling again, whilst scrapping against the wood on the other side with its hands.

Changbin felt tears pooling in his own tear ducts at the sound; the shock and misery travelling over him at _what the fuck he was supposed to do, here_. He needed to let the District know what had happened before they found out, but his last remaining semblance of compassion for what was once _humanity_ was hanging on by a fine linen thread, unable to free his conscience. 

Before he could say anything else, the radio was buzzing again, a signal from the rig trying to contact him on the phone before it sounded its’ regular tune, as if like clockwork.

He pulled the wooden ottoman, filled with fishing gear, buoy rope and surveying equipment across the front of the bathroom door, entrapping it inside, before he swung forward again to receive the call off of the wall.

He grabbed at the phone, taking it in his left hand, as there was blood pouring down his right. 

“Y-yes, I’m—It’s, Seo Changbin,” he answered, trying to keep his breathing calm, and composed, ignoring the tremor of his other hand dripping blood down on to the floor from the other side of him.

_“Seo, we’ve sensed a peculiar disturbance. Your findings that were recorded yesterday, have you made any headway with the anomaly you reported in the precipitation?”_

“Yes, Sir, I—I’ve looked into it,” he started, trying to regain himself.

He _had_ to let the District know about his finding, if not, it’d be the end of not _only_ the creature, but himself, too.

He lifted his other hand to try and cup it around the speaker to stifle his volume so that the thing couldn’t hear him making his report.

When he looked back down at his hand, however, there was no blood.

None at all.

There was no contusion, no welt, no discoloration, no sign of any kind of laceration whatsoever. There wasn’t even a mark or scar where the blood _had_ been, a mere ten seconds ago.

He turned his shaken hand around in disbelief, to look at the front and the back, words escaping him.

It was like it had never even happened.

_“Seo?”_

“A-actually, Sir. I think, I— I must’ve recorded the barometric pressure, wrong. Or perhaps, the Barometer is defective. It was a, false report. I can only apologise, Sir,” he muttered out, his voice becoming increasingly shaken.

He wasn’t sure what was more terrifying; the beast he had locked in his bathroom, or what the District would do to him after filing a false report. He never had, before. 

_“Well, let it be known it’s been documented, and you can expect reprimand. I ask that you move ahead with your observation, tonight, regardless. Surveillance still needs to be carried out.”_

“Sir… A report came through forecasting a _severe_ weather advisory. I’m not sure… I’m not sure if I’d come back,” he said, swallowing harshly.

_“That’s not your call to make.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bird app: twitter.com/YfwbbS <3


	3. Treacherous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw // mild gore/torture, thalassophobia/drowning, brief contemplation of suicide

“Talk. Now,” Changbin said, shoving the thing’s head backwards with his palm, awakening the experiment from it’s slumber. It started gasping for air, frantically looking around the room through painstaking blinks, before rattling it’s arms in the chair that were tied behind it’s back. 

“I—I told, you. I’m— I can’t… Too, weak…” it stuttered, its head lulling to the side. It suddenly went limp against it’s shoulder, suddenly slumping down further into the chair in exhaustion.

It tried to inhale, but failed to take the air in, immediately choking. Changbin’s eyes blew wide open, as he stumbled across to his kitchen cabinet to quickly pull a brown mug off of the top shelf, spinning the tap to fill it with water.

He took it across, propping it against the things mouth and tipping it backwards to hydrate it’s lips. It immediately lapped up all it could, before Changbin pulled it back away again, not wanting to give in to the temptation of his pathetic human instinct of _empathy._

“You said you had a name… How? How do you know that?” Changbin asked.

“B-because I remember it...” it croaked out in response.

“How?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just, tried, desperately.”

 _“Impossible_. Tell me!” Changbin leant down directly in front of it, locking their eyes, trying to look for the signs of mistrust; the wandering gaze, the lips that smiled through a pained expression, the cracks in it’s veneer.

“Please—You can’t just leave me here without any kind of sustenance. I’m _d-dying_ ,” it said, blinking laboriously trying to bring the vision back in to focus.

“I know you are,” he said, resolutely, “isn’t everyone?”

Changbin exhaled, pushing up off of his knees to wander back across the cold, white linoleum to the kitchenette. He reached a hand into the refrigerator, pulling out half of an orange; the one he was saving for later.

He waltzed back across slowly, seeing how its’ eyes lit up at the prospect of him feeding it the citrusy treat. It was a comfortable change of pace; Changbin had almost believed that perhaps it’s food of choice would be human flesh. 

“Now, I’ll give you something to eat, if you tell me how you fixed my hand,” he said assertively, kneeling down in front of it again, firm in his stare.

“I told you, I just don’t know...”

Changbin peeled one of the segments out, and immediately tossed it in his mouth, chewing on it in front of him, the juice oozing from the corner of his mouth.

“Please… I’m—I don’t know how I do it!” it pleaded, craning it’s head as far forward as it could.

He pulled out another chunk, shovelling it into his mouth again, watching the thing’s parched lips fall open as a single tear trickled down it’s papery cheek before it’s head fell to it’s chest. 

Changbin stood up and took the thing’s face in between his index finger and thumb, shunting his head either direction to look from different angles. He looked into his eyes, his pools of dark brown staring blankly in to the slightly clouded, ash-blue iris’ in front of him.

“Are you blind?” he asked, “that’s not a normal eye color.”

“N-no, I can… I can see...”

“How? Your eyes, they’re… Your corneas, they’re misted over, like—”

“—An impact of the therapy, but I still see well,” he responded.

“And the burns across your chest; do they hurt?”

“Y-yes, they do. Awfully.”

Changbin let go of the thing’s face, and traced his finger delicately across the largest welt on his chest. It was one that had erupted and reformed, and had a clear globule of puss over the top of it, the blister itself about three inches long.

The skin around it was angry, burning red and white like molten metal. It looked new, like it had only happened a few days prior.

Changbin could only imagine how painful it must’ve been.

“Tell me, how you fixed my hand,” he said unequivocally, his head flicking to the side.

The thing’s eyes opened wide again, both brows lowering into a look of despondency and fear as his lip started to quiver in response.

“Please! I told you! I mean it, I don’t know—”

Changbin sighed, before he shunted his finger directly into the fissure of the burn, pushing through the top and bursting the blister on top, making it scream out in distress. A whiteish substance started pooling around the edge of it, dribbling down his chest and splashing against the floor as he wrenched his finger out.

The thing started crying again, sobbing, sobbing, and more sobbing. It was getting overbearing, and the older man found himself faltering slightly at the sight of it.

But he couldn’t let it win. 

“Now, if you don’t tell me, I’m going to do the same to your eyes. Do you understand me? Stick my fingers in there, deep, curl them under your sockets,” Changbin spat, through gritted teeth, “then you really will be blind.”

“Please! I don’t know, I promise! I just—Whatever _they_ did! I wasn’t born like this! I don’t know how I do it, I just can! I can help people feel okay, again!” it screamed, tears gushing down each cheek as it used it’s remaining energy to rattle around in the chair. The sobs were guttural now, and it slumped over, doubled up in pain and fear.

“You’re crying, which means you have fluids left in you, at least," he said, shoving it's face back again with his palm, "I have a thirteen-hour surveillance, tonight. Do you think you’ll make it through the night here, Hyunchin?” he asked.

“—Hyunjin...”

“I don’t care what your _supposed_ name is,” he snapped, “We’ll see if you make it when I’m back tonight, won’t we…? If not, I guess you’ll just die there.”

He placed the half-eaten, saffron-colored fruit down on the centre of the countertop, tantalisingly close to the thing’s reach, but _just_ out of it, to torment it just a little more. The last thing it would see was food, just meters ahead of him as it wasted away.

Changbin grabbed his gear, and his rucksack from the door, peering out of the window at the enraged, navy blue sky. The rain was already coming down hard, and he could hear the whip of the wind throttling the turbine atop of the beacon behind the cabin.

The water was crashing in against itself, doubling over and smashing against the buoys, as he peered at his small, wooden, offshore boat tied against the pillars of his docking pier.

It didn’t stand a chance.

He shoved a crinkled, brown, paper bag in to his rucksack first. It contained a few rice crackers, some processed tuna and some cubes of cheddar cheese; his rations for the trip. Then one-by-one, he added the rest of his things in to the bag; his handheld GPS, the thermal imager temperature sensor and bundled lifebuoy. He threw in a bottle of water, for good measure, though he was sure water was the last thing he wanted to see, right now.

“ _You’ll_ be the one to die tonight, if you go out on the water like that…” Hyunjin choked out, from across the room, and Changbin turned to look at him, the way he looked ever so slightly incensed under his deflated skin.

“Well, if I do, no big loss,” Changbin retorted casually, slipping his already punctured lifejacket over his head, fastening the collar around him, before locking the belt either side over his chest and tugging on the straps. “I’ve wanted to, for a while, anyway.”

He threw his bag over him, flashing the thing a pitiful smile, pulling the door slightly open, before it was near enough ripped off of it’s hinges at the severity of the storm that waited for him beyond it.

\---

Surveillance was as barbaric as he had expected in the conditions.

He was expected to radar over sixty percent of the Tarn, 40ft down. It was an impossible task for even the most skilled surveyor; and even thirteen hours wouldn’t allow for the optimisation of the clearing he needed.

It was 3:00pm, and already dark. He’d be scanning for eleven more hours, and the storm was only worsening with every dreaded moment that passed.

The radar never picked anything up. Only the occasional body, that would float by, fizzing up in the bubbles surrounding it. For someone who was meant to monitor flora, fauna and wildlife within the lake, he had yet to see one single living creature in the water, in almost ten years.

Aside from the one strapped down in his cabin, starving to death.

He looked around, holding his hand overtop of his face under his cap to shield it from the brutal winds, as the boat thrashed around under him in the pitch black waters below. The rain stung every exposed portion of his skin, when suddenly he heard a deep rumbling from across the shoreline.

He perched himself up, standing wobbly on his feet to look across at the District rig in the distance, still holding his other hand out in front of him to stabilise himself.

The thunder was picking up, it was roaring out above him, and Changbin knew that it was only a matter of time before—

Just like that, there was a sudden _flash_ , 0.5 nanoseconds worth of light jutting from the sky to the horizon, before plunging him in to darkness again.

He stumbled back, dropping his radar, and clambering across to the other side of the boat, gripping a hold of the vessel at the other side as it rocked backwards and forwards. His weight caused it to shift excessively, and he scrambled to try and distribute his bodyweight across either side, but it was no use.

One large wave crashed over him, lashing the side against the wooden side panel and ripping it clean off, before Changbin’s body was forcefully pushed over to the other side, swinging him over the edge.

He fell out of the boat, tumbling overboard, watching as the wreck of the boat slipped back up to the surface, but he didn’t.

\---

He thought about dying often, about how nothing he did was worth it anymore.

But, once it came to the crux of it, he dreaded death, just like everyone else. He knew fate was cruel, and he knew it would happen to every living creature, but it didn’t make it any less emotionally decrepit. 

He was being sucked under; the waves were tormenting him from the top of the water. The little suds whirled around him, sounding like the high-pitched shrieks of school children, laughing at him, and mocking him as he was swept beneath.

The undercurrent yanked him down by his ankles, and he could see the subtle reflection of the light of the distant sunset at the top of the water, as he sank deeper into the darkness, his hands desperately reaching out above him.

He suddenly felt like he’d landed at the bottom, watching the bubbles of his own gurgles slip away above.

As he turned his head, all he could see was an accumulation of decomposing body parts scattered across the stretch of the lake’s bed; a horrific mass grave of experiments that never made it across the estuary.

At first, he was startled, but after a while, it felt like they were welcoming him.

It was peaceful, almost serene.

He was going to see _him_ , again, the boy with the freckles from back then. He could say sorry to him and finally be able to make his peace for ripping his life away so prematurely.

His vision started to distort at the periphery, and he closed his eyes, awaiting his cue, accepting what was to be. He knew all about the body's self-preservation techniques, all of his major systems slowing down as he felt his heartrate decreasing, sending him in to shut down.

Suddenly he saw the flash of lightning again, this time purple beneath his lids, as felt the sweep of a huge current, rushing him back upwards, jolting him to open his eyes one final time.

—- 

He was dead. He’d never been more sure, that he was dead.

His living body, could feel the dirt, the Hydrillia and the pondweed tangled beneath his fingers and cutting off their circulation, but all he could see in this world, was white.

The pearled, padded walls around him, and the little shocks of electricity, in perfect lightning-bolt shapes. Flashes in his vision travelling in from the side, to the centre, then back again whenever he tried to catch them. Everything felt like he was in a kaleidoscope, the ceiling swirling, and little dashes of color filling the room.

Until, it stopped.

His eyes darted open, and the thing, the body from before, was leaning over him.

“No! Put me back!” He shouted out, flitting forward, grabbing him by the arms, “put me back there! I’m ready!”

The sudden movement made him cough, forcing the filthy lake water out of of his lungs as he vomited across the soil, holding on to his chest, feeling the burn from deep within it.

“It’s okay, you’re—You’re okay!” it said, slapping its’ hand against the centre of his back.

“What the fuck?! I saw—I was, I was dead! I know I was!” he shouted gutturally, eyes darting across the shoreline.

There was not a cloud in sight, just clear blue sky dimming purple under the pink-ish hue of the sunset that was rapidly approaching. The angry, swirling water that he remembered was calm and placid, deafeningly silent to the point where only the slightest ripple of the waves reforming could be heard around them.

“You weren’t dead, or I wouldn’t have been able to help you,” the thing said back to him, tucking it’s dark, matted hair behind it’s ear, “I can only help to _fix_ you, I can’t bring anyone back from… That.”

“What the fuck is going on, how did you find me?!” Changbin shouted back.

“You wondered if I’d be dead when you got back, right? But, I’m stronger than I look. I've lived through much worse than what you are capable of doing to me.”

Changbin couldn't muster the words to say anything back, so he only listened. His chest was pained, not due to the dirty water in his bronchi; it was a different pain, a feeling of shame for inflicting pain on another creature. He tried to shake off the feeling in his head, but with every moment that passed, he felt the emotional exhaustion overwhelming him. 

"I told you, that you would die, if you went out there. I had to get to you before it was too late.” 

“You… You need to get out of here,” Changbin panted, as he scuttled backwards, his feet getting caught in the weeds and soot beneath him, “you need to get away from me and I need to call the District—”

He tried to force himself up, but his body was weak against the quickly falling soil, acting like quicksand as the tide started to come in again, rendering it malleable and treacherous below his feet. 

“You are not well,” It said, “you can’t stand, I’ll help you, if you help me.”

“Get away from me! I mean it!” he choked out; the confused, desperate cries of a man in total dismay.

It was meant to sound formidable and assertive, but all that came out was agony, and fear. He tried to fight back the tears he’d been holding, but his cadaver was weakened, and his throat red raw from the toxic amount of water he’d taken into his body.

He stared back at the thing, sitting on it’s knees against the floor, the way it’s hair crept trickling away from behind it’s ear and flowing in the breeze. The thing he knew nothing about, or how it came to be, or what it was even _capable of_. 

“You should let me help you, or I could just leave you here, and take all your things,” it said, more self-assured than he’d heard it sound, so far.

“Why don’t you, then?!” Changbin spat back.

It went quiet for a moment, before it suddenly raised to it’s feet, pushing against it’s knees to act as a lever. It stared off in to the distance to glance over the rig across the way, squinting through the last remaining fragments of the sun. Changbin could barely even muster enough energy to pull his head up, let alone process anything that was happening.

“It’s cold, we should go inside,” it spoke again, looking back down to him; a pitiful mess of a human drowning in the sand. It slowly reached it’s hand out, and Changbin could see how wounded it’s palms were, how every single inch of it seemed to be broken, in some way or another.

He blinked through his tears at it for a few moments, before finally accepting it’s hand in to his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://twitter.com/YfwbbS 🌩️


	4. Healing

Changbin’s bedroom was a small, wooden cubby, barely the size of his bathroom, just enough to contain his bed, one wooden chair and some storage chests for his clothes stacked up to the side. The walls were encased with sheets of paper; numerous diagrams, technical drawings defining the requirements for certain engineering components for his meter readers, findings and reports.

The bed was slightly larger than a singular, raised just about a foot off of the ground; the window lay next to his pillow. The ceilings of the room angled downwards to come to their lowest point in the nook area containing his books.

The creature had closed the wooden blinds half way, and pulled the burgundy curtains shut in his absence, casting the room in an eerie kind of darkness.

“ _How_ did you… How did you save me?” Changbin asked, lying flat on his back against his bed. He turned his head to look towards the door as it ducked back through.

“I didn’t intend to. When I walked out of the door to leave, a storm started. I thought you might have already been dead, but I could sense you were still there. I wasn’t going to help but… I couldn’t leave you lying there because you found me, too,” it perched itself down on to the chair next to the storage containers, ducking down to fit in to the tiny space available.

“I was… I was under for so long… How could anyone possibly survive that?” Changbin stammered.

“I kept you alive. I cut my hand with this fishing lure, see?” it said, showing Changbin it’s left palm. There was a large wound down the centre of the lifeline, pinkened around the edges. Changbin stared at it, his eyebrows burrowing at the unusual statement.

“Why...?”

“The power _only works_ if I’m hurting,” Hyunjin said, swallowing harshly, his eyes glossy, “I wouldn’t have been able to save you if I wasn’t in pain. I think it's like, _I_ have to be hurting to take the pain away from something else. Like a transfer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“That’s why I could heal your hand before when you cut it on the glass. I was starving, my stomach was essentially digesting itself when I found you, and my burns were sore from the salt water, after my journey so—”

“—You said, _heal it_?” Changbin interjected, pulling his body up a little, to attempt to lean on his elbows, but ultimately slumping down again after his arms couldn’t take the weight.

“Y-yes, heal it...”

They stared at each other from across the space between them.

Changbin wasn’t one to believe in the unfounded; everything that Hyunjin had shown him thus far, must be explainable. Superstition was historically damaging to the course of advancements in biological science; he wasn’t one to dabble in the nonsensical.

He was well versed in Genomics. Genetic variation was ultimately all generated by mutation, and if whatever happened to Hyunjin was indeed legitimate, he considered that the _ChunguDam Research Facility_ had actually achieved a genetic mutation so devastating, it would alter the course of mankind as he knew it.

“Show me,” Changbin demanded, “if you’re going to stay here tonight, you need to show me it’s real. Prove it.”

“Stay… here?” Hyunjin asked, “I honestly don’t mean to interfere. I just need shelter for one night, I don’t have to stay long. Besides, you’re too weak to even—”

“Show me,” Changbin insisted, “please.” 

The thing stooped towards him slightly, reaching for his hand. Changbin recoiled instinctively, before he realised that the thing was trying to take his hand to show him the inside of his own arm, which was blotchy. It had little red patches throughout it, covered in nettle stings and black fly bites from being in the water so long.

Hyunjin put it’s other hand up, the one with the inch-long gash from the fishing lore, and curled it’s thumbnail to press against the opening of the wound with a grimace at the sting. When it took it’s hand away from Changbin’s skin, the bites, were gone.

Just like before.

“That’s… This is…” Changbin stuttered, looking at his hand from as many different angles as his energy could muster. “It worked on you… You must be—The only one…” Changbin said, trying to unscramble his thoughts.

“Please, if you tell them I’m here, you know what they will do. You see it every day, you see the people, their corpses, I know you think it’s wrong, too! You can’t let them take me back—”

“—Of course it’s fucking wrong!” Changbin suddenly snapped at him, “I’m not so far removed that I think this shit is okay, for fucks sake. This is just the way the world is, now. We just have to live with it. I have it good, out here. They don’t bother me, as long as I report what I find…” he looked back up to the creature, who was leaning forward in his chair to look at him through pained eyes, “And I found, _you._ So, I have to report you.”

Hyunjin stared at him before abruptly darting up only to drop to his knees, scrambling to his bedside.

“Please! I’ll fix your eye! I promise!” the thing shouted out in desperation, squeezing the wounded hand against Changbin’s knee cap.

“How do… How do you know, about that?” Changbin asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

“You can’t see with your left eye; I can see it. You asked me if _I_ was blind because you wanted to know if you and I were the same,” Hyunjin replied.

“But I never told you, how did you _know_?”

“My ability… It’s like, I can _feel_ the pain of other things, where they hurt, where they’ve suffered on their body. I can sense it, almost. Your eye, it was burned, at the back. There was a spark—”

_The little shocks of electricity, in perfect lightning-bolt shapes._

“—I don’t use it anyway, no one would even notice if it were fixed, or not,” Changbin spat back defensively, his forehead and temples suddenly starting to pulsate.

“You don’t see colors in the middle of your vision. I can bring _that_ back, if you want. I’ll feed you, too, because you’re weak as well, as long as I can have some,” Hyunjin reasoned, his strangely calm exterior only making Changbin feel more conflicted.

“Why? Why would you want to—”

“—You saved my life, and now I want to help you,” it said, nodding earnestly, “please. I showed you my power, now please allow me to stay here for a night, or two.”

The thing shimmied forward on it’s knees, unexpectedly grasping Changbin’s right hand in both of it’s own, bringing it to his chest.

He felt a _surge_ race through him, like a static shock travelling through the veins in his arm.

Before he could say anything else, a flash of lighting suddenly struck the antenna on top of the beacon behind the cabin, phasing the lights out for a split second.

Changbin immediately flinched at the flash, pushing the thing back across room, away from the bed and shunting himself up against the headrest backed up against the corner. He threw his arms across over his face to protect himself, sliding down the wall down to curl up tightly into his knees.

The thunder started to throttle the air around them, getting louder and louder. He pulled his head up, just for a moment, noticing the thing staring at him, compassion bleeding out from behind its blueish-grey iris’. It scurried back over across to his bedside on it’s hands and knees again, reaching it’s hand out stroking lightly over the back of his own, wrapped over his knees.

Changbin barely had the strength to even bash it’s wrist away.

\---

Hyunjin wandered back in through the bedroom, after having left to cook him a meal. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone; he’d slipped in and out of sleep-state a few times, at least. At first, he argued it; he didn’t trust whatever the thing would cook him wouldn’t be dangerous or tainted in some way.

However, he couldn’t deny how agonisingly hungry he felt, and the smell of honey and white meat was trickling in from the kitchen to tantalise his senses. He tried to ignore it, only _internally_ appreciating the delectable aroma that wafted from the bowl as it walked back through to the bedroom. 

“You have to optimise the food that you have here as there isn’t a lot. I cooked a soup, from the chicken thighs and the honey. It’s quite hearty, I think. There’s sage, in the lake, too. I feel like I could get some if I ventured out, maybe when the storm stops—”

“Yeah, but it’s tainted, there’s no way you’d ever get a fresh taste with anything in that lake,” Changbin hit back, “everything’s dead, in it.”

“When I was at the facility, I would sometimes make these kinds of broths if I were put on kitchen duty. They last longer and they fill you up because there’s so much water and starch, you see. I liked to cook there, if they’d let me. If I’d been good.”

Changbin just stared at it; the way it seemed comfortable in his home already. It acted unconcerned, like it wasn’t some damaged creature with welts and bruises all over it’s body in an alien place. The worst part was, Changbin almost felt compassion for it, the way it was so softly spoken and quiet, but he couldn’t ascertain whether or not it was an act. Only this morning, Changbin had the creature tied to a chair, expecting that it would starve to death in his home. Now, the creature was feeding him at his bedside. The feeling churned his insides. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re as hungry as I am,” it replied, “I can feel the pain in your stomach.”

“Stop saying that. It’s ridiculous.”

“You can watch me heal your injured hands, but you can’t believe that I can feel the pain of others?” it questioned, tilting it’s head to the side.

Changbin looked at it, suddenly consumed with a sense of culpability. He shrugged his shoulders, settling back against the headboard, ducking down slightly.

“I can _hear_ things when they’re in agony, too. Not just people, creatures, even the insects, all of it. I can take their pain away by replacing it with mine, but the sounds never go away. It’s like a ringing in my ear...” Hyunjin sighed.

“All the time?” Changbin questioned.

“All the time. Sometimes it’s worse. It’s okay here, because there’s nothing around. Back at the facility I heard people hurting all the time because of the sessions. Sometimes they made me heal some of them… Just so that they could hurt them more.”

“That’s… That must’ve been…” Changbin’s words trailed off, as he blinked back his thoughts again, lost in how broken down it seemed as it plunged it’s head downwards in remorse, “that must’ve…”

 _Must’ve been awful,_ he thought.

But he didn’t say it.

Hyunjin leant over him, holding the spoon out, cupping it gently a few centimetres away from the underside to protect it from spilling on to the bed.

“I can feed myself,” Changbin exclaimed, throwing his hand up in front of him in annoyance. He attempted to make a grab for the bowl from his hands, but Hyunjin angled it away.

“You nearly drowned; you have no strength in your core. Let me help you,” he said, pulling the bowl back around.

“And you?” Changbin asked, “earlier you were a cough away from death, and suddenly…”

“Well, I must admit. When I freed myself, I did revel in some of your food…”

“You what?!” I have rations I have to adhere to! How much did you have?!” he shouted, surging up in his bed, almost knocking the bowl out of Hyunjin’s hands.

“It’s okay, I’ve worked it out so that we can—”

“There is no ‘ _we_ ’! This is my house! I have lived here for nearly ten years; this is my home! What kind of person comes into someone’s home and eats their rations?!” He scoffed, shaking his head from side to side, “well, not a _person_ , I guess. Whatever _you_ are.”

“I am a person. I told you, my name is Hyunjin,” it responded quietly.

“Whatever.”

Hyunjin suddenly stood up, cupping his hands around the bowl, and gently placed it down next to his bed on the small side table, exhaling out into the air. Changbin didn’t want to immediately make a reach for it and show the creature that he really was hungry, so he waited out the uncomfortable silence before it spoke again.

“May I, cleanse myself? I was in the water a while, and out on the soil. May I use a bathtub, or a shower—”

“I’ve used a lot of water already this week, I don’t know if there would be any hot water left, and even if _I did_ have some, it’s for me—”

“—I can shower in the cold. It doesn’t matter to me. The cold feels soothing against my burns.”

Changbin swallowed down a shallow breath, not truly knowing how to even respond.

“Fine, whatever.”

Hyunjin bowed at him, before immediately pulling down the zip of the long anorak, revealing that he had no undershirt on underneath it, and Changbin was instantly scorching hot in embarrassment as his eyes accidentally slipped down it’s body. The thing started to pull at the waist band of the pair of loose, grey track shorts that had been taken out of Changbin’s things, nonchalantly loosening the waist band.

“Woah, woah! What the _hell_ are you doing?!” The older man screamed, throwing his hands out in front of his face before turning his head off to face the window.

“I’m going to wash—”

“You’re—! Can’t you wait until you get into the bathroom to take your clothes off?!”

“But, you pulled me from the water. You have seen everything there is to see of my body,” it responded calmly, voice tinged with confusion.

“Okay, well, whatever! Just—Sheesh.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”

“—Overwhelm?!” Just… Go and shower, for God’s sake...” Changbin exclaimed, sinking back down into the blankets, trying to mask his irritation.

“Thank you," he responded politely. 

Changbin watched as it slipped out of the room, ducking under the doorframe. The rain suddenly started up again out of nowhere, tricking along beside him against the window. He could feel the wind slipping in from the poorly-insulated window seal so he buried himself under the thick blankets.

He closed his eyes tightly shut until the vision under his lids was purple and hazed, hoping that he would eventually fall asleep through his muscle pains.

He hoped that when he woke up, it would just feel like waking up from a nightmare; an acute wave of relief washing over him as he realised that none of this had _actually_ happened. 

Either that, or he just _wouldn't_ wake up, and that would be a different kind of relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who's read my stuff before and is giving this /very different/ story a chance! it's very out of my comfort zone but i hope it's tangible enough! i've been really enjoying writing their dynamic so far and am excited to continue it! <3
> 
> [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/YfwbbS) <3


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